Roots [Completed]

Chapter 3 - Part 5

\\tw: violence, death, malnutrition\\

"What are you doing?"

The door is open. The guards didn't come in this morning. Sam is leading me to a carpeted hallway, to the rest of the "pack."

"Come with me," he repeats in the same forceful tone.

"I - I'd rather stay here."

My weak protest falls on deaf ears. Seconds later, I am being dragged down a hall. It feels like I can't move my body, frozen with fear. Though it makes me nearly nauseous, I find some sort of reassurance in Sam's presence; he won't let other monsters hurt me. He keeps that for himself.

Sam takes me down several turns and down several flights of stairs and an elevator before I see another person. I didn't realize just how huge the house I've been staying in is. This group of people - pack, or whatever they call themselves - are far more sophisticated than I originally thought. Everything in this house seems much older than Sam's room implied, like his was simply the most recent addition of a long-revered tradition. It makes me even more uneasy.

The elevator opens up to what must be the oldest part of the house.

It's a prison. I can't think of another word to describe it. The walls are a cracking concrete with repairs running throughout. The hallway opens up to different passageways that are similarly lit with fluorescents. People - guards - wolves - stand guard throughout the winding maze. I recoil from them, and the movement sends me further back into Sam. I can feel the satisfaction rolling off of him in waves.

Then, there are the prisoners. I can see them through the crossing bars. No prison uniforms. Grime and filth - barely a bed, and sometimes none. Chains hanging from ceilings. I can only peer in at a row of cells - half of which are empty - before I can't take in any more.

This is definitely the cultiest thing Sam has shown me in a while. If he's trying to make me miss his bedroom, it's working.

But that's not what he's trying to do.

He takes me to a certain cell a few hallways in. For a moment, he simply stands beside me as we gaze inside, allowing me to take in the scene in the dim lighting.

In the center of the cell, chained to the floor and almost still in sleep, lies a giant auburn wolf. It's in terrible condition; its fur is patchy across its entire body, like it was lit partially on fire, and there are strange cuts seemingly everywhere, from its muzzle to its paws.

There's a strange height and shape to it, though. It must be - like Sam.

Sam gestures to a nearby guard. He opens the door.

Nope. Nope. Nope nope nope nope

"Sam, what's - " I begin, so desperate to avoid going in that I actually willingly wrap my hand in his.

He pushes me forward, following me into the cell. The wolf looks even more damaged up close, but any sympathy I was feeling is gone. It's too terrifying, to be this near to it.

Sam presses something heavy and cool into my hands. It takes me a moment to realize what it is.

It's a knife, of sorts. The hilt is modern, but where a blade should be, a long, pale claw is forged into the metal. It's 7 inches of deadly sharp - bone?

"Kill it." Sam wraps my hesitating fingers around the weapon.

I look at the knife, temporarily struck dumb.

He just handed me a weapon. Something flashes before my eyes, and I imagine myself using it against Sam. Maybe I could get out of here?

But then I think of the way his skin had healed so quickly after I bit him, and I know that it would only anger him. Sam has me just where he wants me.